DA Revelations Episode 20: Homecoming
by AngelExposed
Summary: With Rogue still missing, Jessie feels concerned and guilty; Remy makes his return to Bayville in hopes of locating the woman he loves.
1. Chapter 1: SauvezVous

DA Revelations

Episode 20 - Homecoming

Chapter One – Sauvez-Vous

Jessie Crowell's screams had never been so loud and so terrifying; the shriek was so loud that it almost felt as if it could have split Kitty Pryde's ears as she staggered exhausted from her bed and tried to get to Jessie's bedroom. Between the sound of shrieking and the sound of Caleb's howling, Kitty was almost sure at any point her ears may burst.

Kitty's bedroom door hung open and she could see the lights on in the hall were flickering on and off violently making it almost seem as if ghostly shadows were dancing across the walls.

"What the hell is/ goin' on?" she heard a loud grumbling yell, she glanced down the hall to see Logan silhouetted there, his hair in disarray, his bedsheet was wrapped around his waist.

"Jessie is having another nightmare..." Kitty said loudly as she stepped outside of the room, she pulled her robe around her and reached for the door handle.

"Wait!" Logan warned.

Kitty turned and looked at him incredulously, "she's screaming her head off."  
Logan rushed over, "don't touch the door..."

"What the-?"

"The whole place is humming with electricity! Touch that doorknob and you'll be electrocuted...get back..."

Kitty stepped away from the door; Logan stepped over, holding his sheet with one hand he kicked the door hard so that it caved in. He rushed in, Kitty followed cautiously; neither was prepared to find what they did.

Jessie Crowell was hovering four feet above her bed, her body rigid, sparks and tendrils of electricity danced from her skin, her eyes were open but the grey blue of her irises had become a bright electric blue.

"Oh...my...god..." Kitty put her hands to her mouth, she stood there staring in horror. "Jessie..."

"This is...insane..." Logan breathed.

"Is she awake?" Kitty asked in a frantic breath.

"I don't think so...Jessie! Snap out of it!" Logan rushed for the little girl, but was instantly thrown back by the charge, he bounced off almost as if there were an invisible forcefield and fell to the floor; he writhed there in agony for moments before the electrical charge left him.

"Logan! Are you okay?" Kitty gasped.

"We can't touch her..." Logan growled, "if we get too close she's gonna kill us..."

"JESSIE!" Kitty cried at her, "you need to wake up NOW!"

The man with yellow eyes was staring at her; his gaze was intense as he stood there looking at her. His complexion was odd; it reminded her of the colour of bad meat at the supermarket...the bacon that was past it's expiration, that almost greenish blue shimmering tint hidden amongst that fleshy red and pink.

Everything about him was off, how his voice sometimes seemed to echo, how the whites of his eyes were a pale yellow colour making the dark blue of his eyes stand out and seem all the more disturbing. He seemed bulky beneath the starched white of his lab coat, and his hair was blacker than night and seemed almost shine blue beneath the harsh white light of the laboratory.

It felt as if she'd seen that room a thousand times; she had every detail of it etched into her memory like a hand sketched intricate landscapes and fantastic horizons with nothing more than a pencil and paper.

Jessie tried to move and couldn't; she was aware of the ache in her shoulders and the pain in her neck an she glanced awkwardly to see her arms were shackled to a wall. She screamed, and cried, the tears she felt drip down her chin and land upon the plain cotton nightgown she wore that was a boyish blue-green.

"Now, now, no use in screaming and sobbing..." he said, his voice, that deep, throaty and somewhat scratchy sound, made her ears hurt and her heart thump relentlessly in her tiny chest.

He had something in his hand; what was that? Another needle? She'd seen so many of them in her time there that she'd lost track of how many. He was drawing something from a tiny bottle; the contents inside were blue, and clearly appeared to be glowing.

He dabbed antiseptic onto her arm, and then held onto her elbow with his horridly cold hand while he drove the needle deep in. The needle was icy, and sharp and hard and when he withdrew it, her veins throbbed and stung.

She yelped out and struggled, "Let me go!"

"Not now. Not yet..." he took a hold of her face and held her still. His fingers were stained with chemicals and always smelled strange to her. She tried to pull her face out of his grasp. "Be good, Jessie, and you'll get out of here, soon enough. Once I'm done with you..." he chuckled.

The chuckle...oh it was so vulgar...it sounded so wrong...a laugh that should have not come from that mouth, that throat. It sounded almost...robotic...evil.

He left her in the room alone, she heard his footsteps down the hall from the lab; that deliberate, slow, heavy clicking of heels of his well-made shoes. She glanced up to examine each arm. Her shackles were slightly loose; perhaps it had been all her struggling that had brought this about. She struggled more, her feet were shackled to a platform she was standing on and she couldn't kick to give herself more momentum. She wriggled as hard as she could, her elbows clattering hard against the metal behind her.

It took her some time, but finally, one arm was free, then the other followed soon, and she gasped at the pain as her arms came down; they felt heavy and almost seemed to tingle like tiny needles jabbing at every vein. She bent over awkwardly to release her feet, it was a catch that was simply a case of twisting and pulling off. She fell to the hard tile floor with a soft thud and gasped at the agony.

Her tiny body ached as she pulled herself up and ran to the door; she pulled the door open carefully and stuck her head out to look around. The hall was silent, one of the lights at the very end of the hall flickered; there were two doors on the other side of the hall that she could see.

She hugged herself to support her aching arms as she tiptoed along the freezing hall in her bare feet. She heard loud footsteps approaching and she panicked; she spun around, the nearest doors were oddly shaped and she put her hand against the button. Sparks shot from her hand and she yelped in fright as the doors immediately opened almost like the double doors to an elevator.

She glanced at her tiny hand in confusion, she'd never seen this happen before and she didn't understand exactly what it might be. But there wasn't time to ponder on it now. Frightened she may be caught she quickly slipped into the room before the doors closed again behind her. She heard the footsteps passing by the door and she hid behind the wall until they were no longer audible.

Jessie glanced around the room in wonderment. The walls, the floors, everything was steel, even the tables and the shelves. And there was something else, too...farther to the back of the room.

Her bare feet stung on the too-cold floor as she padded closer and closer. Her heart almost seemed to stop at what she saw there. Strapped to a platform, not much different from the one she'd been strapped to, was a man.

Completely nude from head to toe with incredibly long brown hair hanging down in front of his face and body, concealing the parts of him that she was sure she was perhaps too young to be seeing.

There was something oddly familiar about him that was hard to pinpoint; she had never clapped eyes upon him before, she was sure of it...and yet...yes...there was something terribly familiar. There were bruises on his tan flesh, and cuts that spoke of many injuries sustained probably trying to fight his way out and away of whoever had done this despicable thing to him. There was an ugly scar on his chest that seemed almost like it should have been significant.

Jessie timidly stepped closer, "Mister...are you okay?" she asked quietly, she was afraid he might be sleeping, afraid she might awaken him, that he might be angry.

He let out a groan, and mumbled something completely incoherent that she was sure it wasn't even the same language she spoke. And he raised his head slightly, his hair parting from his face to reveal only one feature she could make out.

One glowing red eye.

Her blood ran cold, her breath caught in her throat until she thought she might choke.

"_Sauvez-vous...sauvez-vous.._" he groaned. "S...s...sauvez-vous..." the eye looked at her with such panic, such horror.

It was the only thing of his face she saw before she felt the Doctor's hands hard upon her shoulders and she was caught again...she would never escape now.


	2. Chapter 2: Blown

Chapter Two - Blown

"JESSIE! WAKE UP!"

Jessie Crowell awoke with a start, and she screamed so loud that her throat hurt; her back hit something and it made her stop and she rolled awkwardly off, falling to the floor and gasping in pain as her right arm in its cast got the brunt.

She was breathing hard although the nightmare was already slipping away from her, disappearing away like bathwater in a drain. She looked around the room in confusion, everything was in darkness but the half-light from the very early morning gave her limited sight. Miss Pryde was there, and Logan, looking dishevelled and slightly annoyed wearing nothing but a sheet around his waist.

And it was perhaps the image of the naked man in front of her now that reminded her of the naked man in her dream. The man with the long brown hair, the man hanging from the wall, the man with that glowing red eye who spoke in a strange tongue she couldn't understand.

She whispered "Mr. LeBeau..." and took in a shuddering breath. "I saw Mr. LeBeau."

"Jessie, Mr. LeBeau is in Scotland..." Miss Pryde rushed over, "Are you alright..." she tried to touch Jessie but she snapped her hand back as a spark jumped between them.

"Power is out," came a voice from the hall. "She's blown out the electricity _and_ the backup generator. Now that's impressive..."

The yellow glowing eyes of Kurt Wagner reminded her of yellow eyes in her nightmares. The Doctor. That was all she'd ever known him as. Things she hadn't thought about in years...things she had completely forgotten, seemed to come flooding back to her in torrents like the flood following the bursting of a dam.

"Jessie..."

"I saw Mr. LeBeau..." Jessie said again, she was gasping for breath, "I saw him!"

_"_You were just dreaming," Miss Pryde tried to comfort, she gestured for Jessie to calm down, making sure not to touch her this time.

"No!" Jessie yelled, she was annoyed that no one was hearing what she was saying. "It wasn't a dream! _It wasn't!_"

"Where'd you see him?" Logan asked, sounding frustrated and tired.

"In...in a cold shiny place...strapped up on a wall...with his long hair...and no clothes...and a big cut on his top half..." she said, she patted her chest. "Right here..."

The three X-Men looked at each other curiously, then back to her. "In a cold shiny place?" Mr. Wagner asked softly.

"With big slidy doors..."

Miss Pryde put her hand to her mouth, her eyes were wide. She glanced towards Logan and Kurt as if asking what she should do...or say.

"It's real!" Jessie said loudly, "I've _been_ there..."

"Stay there..." Miss Pryde said to Jessie, then she gestured for the two men to follow her into the hall. She closed the door most of the way and Jessie rushed over to the door to listen into their conversation.

"Is it possible?" Miss Pryde was asking, "that she _was_ there..."

"The Genoshian Mutant Containment Facility? Would they have _taken_ a kid there?" Logan asked./

"If she is empathic...like the Professor thinks..." began Mr. Wagner, "couldn't she be picking it up from one of the others who _saw_ the place?"

"Which one of us _saw _ Remy strapped to a wall?" Kitty asked.

Logan pondered, "None of us. Monet was the one who apparently let him out the room Sinister had him kept in...but come on...empathic mutants _pick up_ feelings, they don't read minds and they certainly don't recall memories from other people, do they?"

"No...that's telepathy..." Mr. Wagner replied. "And Jessie isn't telepathic...is she?"

"Not that we're aware," Miss Pryde said quietly. "So...is it possible she was on the island?"

"She definitely _wasn't_ there when we were," Mr. Wagner confirmed. "We got _everyone_ out of there one way or another...we'd have seen her."

Logan took a moment, "then she would have been there _before_ us...perhaps long before. I mean...didn't Remy tell the Professor he'd been in and out of the GMCF for _years?_ For all we know Jessie might have been there a year...maybe two years ago...maybe even three...she probably forgot."

"Or was _made_ to," said Mr. Wagner, suddenly with an angry tone in his usually whimsical voice.

"We need electricity...Kurt, can you fix the generator to get us some kind of power...?" Miss Pryde asked.

Mr. Wagner sighed, "I can try...but what are you gonna do?"

"Once I get Caleb back to sleep, hopefully by then the Professor will be awake. We need to have a big discussion about the possibilities..." she responded softly. "If Jessie _was_ on that island...and if she _did_ meet with Sinister...then suddenly it's no surprise she's having nightmares of _that_ capacity..."

Moira MacTaggart slammed the lab phone down hard, she swore under her breath in a succession of half-incoherent words before speaking up. "We built that plane a little too well. My friends in the Airforce haven't even been able to locate it on radar..." she sighed.

Hank sat upon the counter, a hot cup of tea in his hands. "You designed the plane with the same cloaking and anti-detection systems...the government shouldn't be able find it on any radar regardless."

"I know that," Moira grumbled, "we were going to fit our own tracking system into the plane...but Kurt decided to stop work on it and go back to Bayville for his visit."

"I'll return to Bayville at the next opportunity," Hank decided, "I'll have to book a flight from Edinburgh airport..." he realised.

"That's a sixteen-to-seventeen hour journey and a change over," Moira reminded.

"What else can I do? You don't have any other _untested_ planes standing by, by any chance, do you?"

"Don't be daft."

"So...what now?"

"What _can_ we do? We'll never catch up with him. If that plane goes down midway over the ocean, there's no _way _he'll survive and we'll never be able to locate him for a rescue mission. He has no official training as a pilot...how did he even know how to use the controls...it's not like I left a bloody _manual_ in the cockpit!"

"He's flown the blackbird before...and the Redeye planes...I guess that counts as some training. For all we know he's had training in the years when he was out of our radar. He has seven years unaccounted for, you know."

Moira rubbed the back of her neck, "does the man have _no _concept of safety?"

"If it's concerning his only living daughter, I'd guess not," Hank reminded. "He's always been the reckless type...and we shouldn't be surprised."

"Charles isn't going to be happy about this," Moira sighed as she picked up the phone again and began to dial.

"It wasn't your fault," Hank stood up, "if anything, it was mine. I should have been keeping an eye on him...and I should have taken that phone call in a private room instead of in the hallway where he could have heard."

"Either way, I need to call and let them all know Gambit is on his way..." Moira finished dialling and waited. She raised an eyebrow, hung up, waited a moment, then redialled.

"No answer?"

"No service," Moira frowned, "on their end. Perhaps there's a storm..."

"Try a cellphone..." he reached over to end the call, then dialled in the lengthy code before trying Jean Grey's personal cellphone number.

Moira paused, "Just going to answer phone..." she shrugged and hung up. "I'll go to the communications room and try to get through from there."

"Good idea...do that, I'll try a few of the other numbers, see if I can get through."


	3. Chapter 3: Formidable

Chapter Three - Formidable

Jean Grey stood with the flashlight in her hand pointed at the generator as Kurt Wagner tried to start it up. The thing didn't even splutter with signs of life anymore, it simply ceased to start up.

"There's plenty of fuel in it," Kurt assured, "But it's dead...totally. Blown."

Jean sighed, "whatever Jessie did, she blew the electricity in the whole place – even the cellphones all stopped working...even our _watches_ stopped working..."

"Did she absorb all that power?"

"I'm not sure...I didn't see what happened. She may have absorbed it and sent it back into the electrical system...the surge might have been what blew every circuit in the place..." Jean explained.

"And the cellphones?"

"Mines melted..." Jean made a face.

"For a seven year old to have such power...it's a little...unnerving," Kurt admitted.

"She can't help it..." Jean sighed. "It happened when she was asleep – she had no control over it..."

Kurt nodded, "I understand how it can be to have power that can't be controlled. Most of us have had to endure it at some point in our lives."

"She has remarkable control of her powers when she's awake," admitted Jean.

"I know. She demonstrated her ability to use little spheres of electricity as projectiles," Kurt explained. "It reminded me of Gambit..."

"She's more powerful than Gambit..." Jean admitted, "sometimes I wonder if she may be more powerful than the Professor...when she reaches adulthood...she'll be quite formidable."

Kurt grabbed onto Jean's waist, "the way things are going..." he said before they teleported up to the foyer, "she may not have to wait that long."

Jessie glanced at the fire in the Professor's office; it crackled every so often and the flames were almost mesmerising...making it hard to look away. She sat folded legged on the carpet looking at it through the wrought iron fireguard.

"Jessie..."

She was only vaguely aware of the Professor's voice in the room.

Exhaustion had settled over her again and she couldn't quite comprehend why she felt so tired lately; it had been ever since her injury.

"Jessie..."

She turned, this time snapping out of the sleepy trance of staring into the fire; the Professor was nearby sitting in his chair with a tartan blanket upon his lap. "Uh huh?" she asked.

"You should perhaps lie down; you seem very sleepy."

"I'm fine..." she stood up, her legs felt stiff, her arms limp. The pain in her right arm was throbbing dully; a firm reminder of her foolish notions. She walked over to the Professor's chair and and stood beside him to look at him. "Is everyone mad at me?" she asked softly.

"Why would they be mad at you?"

She picked idly at the loose thread of his shirt sleeve. "'Cause I broke the power..." she chewed her lip. With her index finger she zapped the thread while pulling it with her free uninjured hand and it broke away from the shirt, the scent of singed thread rose into the air.

The Professor put his hand upon her shoulder, his touch was heavy but reassuring, "everyone knows this was an accident. You can't be blamed for something you didn't mean to do."

"I'm always doing stupid things," she sighed, she moved over to the burgundy leather chesterfield couch against the wall and she climbed onto it and tried to make herself comfortable. "It's my fault Rogue isn't here now, and it's my fault we have no power..." she pouted. "It's my fault that your proper chair got broken and now you have to use that one..." she gestured.

He smiled and wheeled himself over. "Jessie, perhaps I should have been relying less on my electric chair when I have two perfectly good useful arms..." he assured. "And you couldn't be faulted for any of those things. Everything will work itself out...my chair will be fixed, the electricity will be fixed..."

Jessie raised her large eyes to his, "and Rogue?" she asked.

"Rogue will be back."

"How do you _know_ that?" Jessie asked.

"Because I know Rogue," he answered simply.

"Everyone thought that about Mr. Drake..." she admitted. "He never came back," she reminded.

Professor Xavier paused, "Bobby has found...a new home..."

"He didn't like Mr. LeBeau."

"You don't need to concern yourself with that," The Professor promised.

Jessie looked away from the Professor; the images in her dream came drifting back to her as she thought of Mr. LeBeau. Had it been a dream? Or had it really happened to her so long ago that she'd somehow forgotten all about it? Was that possible? Did people simply forget about things that happened to them?

Or had it _really_ been a dream?

"Jessie? What's wrong?" the Professor asked.

"Mr. LeBeau was in my dream..."

The Professor seemed troubled when she mentioned this.

Jessie straightened up, "I don't _think_ it was a dream though...'cause I heard Miss Pryde, Mr. Wagner and Logan talking about how Mr. LeBeau was strapped to a wall...and that's what I saw in my dream..."

"Jessie..." said the Professor.

"And there was a doctor in a white coat...with black hair and eyes that were kinda yellow..." she said in a low voice. "And he had a bottle of blue stuff that he put in me with a needle thing...it _glowed_."

The professor stopped to consider this, his eyes searched hers. "Blue stuff?" he raised an eyebrow.

"It glowed..." she stated again, "like...it was...glowy..."

He said nothing after this, but as she stared hard at him somehow she _knew_ that what she'd said was significant. The blue glowing liquid...the Professor knew what this was. At that moment she wished she could read his mind and she sat concentrating hard to try but she failed at this. "You've seen that stuff before," she finally said, giving up on her attempt at telepathy.

The Professor sighed, "Yes. I have."

"Is it bad?"

"Jessie...I..."

A sudden sound made Jessie jump; the sound of an overhead plane rushing by, the windows rattled under the vibrations. Jessie got up quickly and rushed to the large window that sat behind the Professor's desk. She pressed her nose up to the glass and looked outside.

"What's out there?" the Professor asked, he turned the chair and slowly wheeled over.

"I don't see anything," she said confusedly; she turned to look at the Professor. "Did the Blackbird go somewhere?"

"No..." the Professor shook his head, he moved to settle beside her and he looked outside, "the hangar doors are jammed shut; the blackbird can't leave until the electrical problems are resolved."

_My fault, again_, Jessie despaired.

"Jessie...have you taken care of the homework that your teacher sent for you?" the Professor asked suddenly.

Jessie couldn't help but feel that the Professor was trying to distract her. Either way, there wasn't much she could do but answer. "Uhm...no...?"

"Why don't you go get your homework and I shall help you with it."

"Aren't you too busy to do that?" Jessie asked. In hert experience, the Professor was usually always too busy to do anything other than sit in the office or go to meetings.

"Well, my phonelines are down, none of the cars are working right now, and I think I can afford myself a little break from work to help you with some math."

"Okay," Jessie nodded.

The cold in the hallway was instantly noticeable as she left the warm office and closed the door behind herself. Jessie shivered and to avoid being in the cold too long, she ran up the stairs as fast as she could to her bedroom, where on top of her toy chest, her pile of homework was sitting still undone.

She wished she didn't have to do the homework; it was one of the things she least liked about school was actually doing any of the school work, but she kept hearing from all the adults that it was a completely necessary part of her life. She picked up her pencil case from where she kept it, and with her homework bundled under her good arm, she left the room.

Her mind was still full of questions; even the thoughts of homework weren't enough to stop the thought of the evil doctor in her nightmare, and the thoughts of Mr. LeBeau hanging from the wall. She remembered the crucifix that had been on the wall in the school room at the orphanage and Mr. LeBeau's image shackled to that wall reminded her of it; the thought made her shiver.

Jessie tried to force it out of her mind as she made her way downstairs and she sauntered along the cold hair, watching her breath mist in the air as she stepped carefully down the dull darkened halls, the light from the nearest window was barely enough to illuminate the hall well enough to see where she was going.

The Professor's office door was hanging ajar, and the light from the fire inside was casting a soft shaft of orange across the floorboards in the hallway. She stopped in her tracks...she could have sworn it had been closed. She took a moment to remember and she was positive she had shut it. Cautiously, she began to step forward and gazed through the gap; a dark figure was standing in the office.


	4. Chapter 4: Limited

Chapter Four - Limited

Remy LeBeau stared down at Professor Xavier as he entered the office unannounced and uninvited. He could tell by the Professor's expression that he was not the person who had been expected to walk through that door.

"Surprised to see me?" Remy asked; despite all the Professor had done for him he still couldn't refrain from speaking in a voice devoid of feeling.

"Surprised that you returned at this point in time...no," said the Professor, "but...I am surprised that I received no word of warning from Muir Island that you had left early."

Remy kicked the door to close it; the cold ran up his back was unpleasant. "This place is freezing – even more than usual."

"We're without power."

"What about the backup generator?"

"It's blown."

"I couldn't get into the hangar...I had to park Excalibur's plane on the grounds."

"That explains the sound we heard moments ago," said Professor Xavier with a nod. "You look well..."

"I'm not really interested in discussing pleasantries at this time," Remy frowned. "Explanations would be more welcome."

"Hank told you?"

Remy scoffed, "I overheard. I doubt anyone had any intentions of telling me what happened; if I hadn't woken up when I did and heard that call...I'd have never known about what happened while I was away."

"How much did you hear?"

"Jessie's arm got broken. Rogue took off...no one can find her. I didn't stick around to listen to the rest...as you can imagine...I had a lot to worry about already. How long ago did this happen?"

"Two days ago," said the Professor. "Jessie is fine."

"Bad break?"

"Her arm is in a cast. They reset it. It'll heal..."

"But she's in _pain_," Remy frowned.

"Jean is in charge of her medication – it helps for her pain but it does make her a little drowsy..."

"How did it _happen_?"

"From what I understand – from what Jessie told me – is that Jessie took a foolish risk and tried to touch Rogue...Rogue panicked and reached out to stop her...she grabbed Jessie's arm and the bone broke quite cleanly. I do believe Jessie's account and Kitty did confirm it was what Rogue had told her too."

Remy sighed, "Rogue doesn't know her own strength..." he put his hand to his head, "she's never been able to control that..."

"It wasn't Rogue's fault..." the Professor softened his tone. "What she did was to save Jessie's life...if Jessie had touched her...who knows what may have happened – she may have not _survived_ it."

"How could you let her just take off like that? Wasn't _anyone_ with her?"

"Kitty was with her for a while – but then went to tend to the baby. When she returned to Rogue's bedroom, they found she had gone; taken off through the window with some clothes but not much else. Not even her credit cards or passport..."

Remy sighed, "I need to find her."

"You may have your work cut out for you..."

"You haven't been able to sense her?".

"We discovered Jessie has a new and rather interesting power...that is somewhat dulling the powers of everyone around her."

Remy paused to consider this, "so...your powers of being able to sense her presence right now are...limited."

"Your own powers may be limited as well," the Professor added. "It's been fleeting on and off for months and no one ever realised Jessie was the one causing it. The nearer we are to Jessie, the harder it is to focus our powers."

"If there's anything Jessie _didn't _need in her life right now, it's more power..." Remy sighed.

"We've also discovered she is _highly_ empathic."

"Highly empathic?" Remy was caught between surprise and the sense of non-surprise. It was strange how suddenly so much about Jessie seemed to make much more sense knowing about this new power of hers. "How _highly?_"

"Highly enough to know that Rogue had left the premises before even having been told or seen for herself..." the Professor explained. "It also explains why she's so attuned to how everyone feels...you said yourself that Jessie seemed to be able to tell you were sad..."

"It was probably more than obvious...even to a seven year old..." Remy sighed. "I'm gonna wanna know more about this later..." he warned, "but now...I need to think about finding Rogue..."

"Where will you start?"

"I have a couple ideas. For all I know she might have taken back to Mississippi..." he said in distress. "If that's so...I'm gonna be gone for a while searching her out..."

"As soon as we get the electricity working and our equipment working again we'll be able to help in a better capacity..."

"How did the Electricity blow out?" Remy asked.

The Professor didn't answer, but instead he glanced towards the door as it was opening.

Jessie Crowell stood there, her eyes lit up like fairy lights at the sight of Remy, she dropped both the pencil case and the pile of books she was holding and rushed up to greet him.

"Mr. LeBeau!" she squealed.

Remy forced a smile; at that moment he felt too unprepared to see her, as long as he'd pined to be with her at that moment he didn't feel ready and he had to try and gather his emotions and thoughts in check and try to force a happy and relaxed state of mind.

_If she _is _highly empathic, I can't let her know how I really _feel _inside anymore...it'll mess her up more than she already is,_ Remy thought as he knelt down to hug her. "Hi, mignon."

"You've been away so long!" she admonished as she pulled back to look at him. "Why didn't you call?"

"Ah...I'm not too good with phone conversations..." he sighed, "but look at you...I swear I think you got taller..." he lied, "and...what's this?" he gestured to her arm. "Some kind of new white armband?"

Jessie giggled and she flicked the cast awkwardly with the fingers of her left hand, "I got my arm hurt."

"Yes...it looks like you did."

"It's _my_ fault," she said quickly, and she glanced over to the Professor.

"It's okay, mignon," said Remy softly, "Professor Xavier told me what happened..."

"Are you mad at me?" Jessie asked softly.

"Of course I'm not mad," Remy swallowed back his feelings. He wasn't sure how he felt about this. He was angry in some way – angry that his daughter had decided to take such a stupid risk as try to touch Rogue when she knew how dangerous it could have been. And he was definitely disappointed that what she'd done seemed to have been the catalyst for Rogue to suddenly take off without word. But how could he express this to a seven year old without upsetting her? It was better to just lie...Jessie didn't need the stress of the worrying or the feeling guilty any more than she probably already did.

"It's my fault Rogue is gone, though."

"You know what, Rogue just _probably_ decided she needed a vacation. She hasn't had a vacation in...forever..." Remy realised, "like...since...what...last January?" Remy glanced over to the Professor.

"Oh, at least," agreed the Professor.

"So...yeah, she's probably just took off to go lie on a big beach somewhere on a sun drenched island to sip Pina coladas and get a tan. She was probably just forgot to mention."

Jessie put her hands on Remy's face and pressed her nose to his and looked him straight in the eye for a moment then grumbled, "you're a bad liar. And I'm not three."

Remy was sure he heard a quiet chuckle coming from where the Professor was sitting. He recomposed himself, "yeah, okay. She's probably not on vacation..." he gave in. "She just needs a time out...so she can think."

"She'll come _back,_ though, right?" Jessie asked, her large blue-grey eyes felt as if they might penetrate him to his very soul.

"Of course. I'm going to go find her right now...and she'll be back here again before you know it."

"You're going again?" Jessie asked, her face fell.

"I'm coming back," he promised.

Jessie paused, her face strange.

Remy stared at her, "mignon? What's wrong?"

"I don't think she's very far away."


	5. Chapter 5: Not Quite Home

Chapter Five – Not Quite Home

The place was just as he remembered leaving it; the lawn was overgrown and the privet needed trimming, the large bay windows looked dirty, but the white paintwork seemed intact and hadn't yet begun to flake or discolour, the brickwork still seemed fairly clean although it was damp from the rain that had come on earlier. The path up to the house was dusty and strewn with pieces of twigs and grass. His key slipped into the lock of the double white doors easily; he noted the dirt that had gathered on the edges of the panels and reminded himself to one day come down and clean it up.

_I should have just sold this place on,_ he thought as he slipped inside quietly. The light sifted in through the dirty windows into the large living room area; the scarce furniture there was protected with large clear plastic covers; the walls still looked almost freshly painted although he noted that now there were a few cobwebs up in the corners up by the ceiling. He moved into the narrow kitchen and glanced in; he couldn't remember how it had looked before...he'd paid for the back wall to be tiled and new cabinets to be installed just after he'd bought the house. The job had been done but he'd never inspected it. He stepped in and ran his hand along the black granite countertop, it was cold and slightly dusty; there was still a trace of sawdust on it from the installation of the above cabinets. The tall subzero fridge had been put into place but there was a plastic cover on that too, and it wasn't plugged in. The stove was in the same condition.

He left the kitchen and began up the stairway, the wooden stairs creaked a little under his weight. He moved along the narrow upstairs hall; the bathroom door was open and he noticed the window in there was open; the blinds were swaying gently in the wind.

_Someone_ had been here, that was for sure.

He turned and pushed the master bedroom door open.

There, upon the kingsized bed, Rogue sat folded legged; her back against the headrest, her face grim. She didn't even raise her eyes to his when he stepped into the room. She just stared into space.

She spoke first, her voice soft but sad. "I knew you'd come as soon as you could once you heard what happened..."

He hovered in the door, watching her. She looked so thin and tired, so pale, reminding him of the girl she had been so very long ago. She shifted slightly, her body making a strange sound on the plastic covering the mattress of the brand new bed that had sat unused for eight months.

"I didn't know where else to go," she said quietly, she turned to look at the mirrored closet on the wall to her left, the mirrors were slightly filmy.

"You've been here all this time?" he asked as he stepped inside.

"I flew around for hours...not knowing what to do or where to go. Then I remembered this place...it was still empty...so I let myself in through the attic window," she sighed.

He looked around the room; he'd forgotten how it looked. "This...was gonna be our home...when we got married...not quite home now, is it?" he made a face.

Rogue pulled her knees up to her chest and let her chin rest upon them, "I thought about going back home but...I couldn't..." she closed her eyes. "I couldn't face anyone..."

"It wasn't your fault..." he said softly.

"You weren't even there," she replied quickly.

"I know what Jessie told me," he sat at the very end of the bed. "She's not really the lying type. I knew just by the guilty look in those eyes of her she wasn't lyin' to me..." he turned to look at Rogue. "And...I know you so very well...you wouldn't have reached to grab her arm like that if she hadn't taken that risk..."

Rogue looked away from him, "I've been dreading something like this happening..." she admitted. "People get hurt all the time around me...in and out of the field. But...I've been dreading the day that one day...it would be one of the kids. What's worse...I was so scared that eventually it was _going_ to be Jessie. And it did."

"Chere...your powers are so...unavoidable. You're incredibly strong...touching you can be lethal. Yet...in all the years you've been with the X-Men...in all the years you've been training the students...there are very few instances of you _accidentally_ hurting anyone..."

"That's not the point!" she exclaimed, she stood up. "In my mind I keep going over the thing again and gain; I can't get the _sound_ of her screaming out of my head...I can still hear the _snap _of bone! I can still see the tears streaming down her face! And it was _my_ fault. I should have taken precautions! I should have kept her away from me! I should have _never_ let her in!"

He looked up at her, "but you _did_ let her in. And then you _ran. _ What were you thinking?"

Rogue looked at him, her eyes glassy, "the same thing you did when you took off seven years ago, Remy. It wasn't a _thought_, it was _panic._"

He stood slowly and stepped towards her, "that's different."

"No...it's not. I could have accidentally killed her."

"But you didn't."

"What about _next_ time, Remy?"

"Who's to say there _will_ be a next time?" he demanded.

"You're right...there won't be. I can't _go back_ there knowing what I did. I can't just take up where I left off with my students in the Danger Room with them all knowing what happened. I can't take the risk of being around kids anymore. They're too fragile..."

"So...that's it...you're going to throw your life away...your home...your _career_, your missions with the X-Men...because of a freak accident?"

"It wasn't _just_ a freak accident...it was a freak accident with a little girl...your daughter."

He stared at her. Somehow, he hadn't expected her to know yet...he was unsure how she could have found out...unless someone had told her. "Who...told you?" he asked grimly.

"You did," she answered carefully, "when you thought you were dying...you told me in French."

He rubbed the back of his neck, "shit."

"Yeah," Rogue moved to the window and looked outside.

"It wasn't like I went out of my way to _not_ tell you," he admitted. "I just didn't know how to go about it," he moved over. "What a conversation that would have been...out of the blue...Jessie is my kid..."

Rogue edged away from him, "Which is why I don't understand how you can be so...so calm about all of this...I hurt your daughter...probably the only child you will _ever_ have in your life...and you're standing there so...so chilled as if this kind of thing happens every day...how can be so blasé about the whole thing?"

"Because Jessie is _fine! _Yes her arm is broken – yes I'm...pissed...that she's in a cast for a couple of months but I'd rather have a daughter with a broken arm than a daughter in a permanent _coma,_" he frowned.

Rogue refused to meet his eye.

"Y'know how I found out about how this happened?" he asked gently, "I eavesdropped on a conversation Hank had with someone on the phone. I had to hear over the phone that my daughter had broken a limb...and you...you had just taken off...like a flash...no one could find you..." he sat upon the bed again, folded his arms and let them rest on his knees. "I flew for hours...stole one of Excaliburs new planes...took the risk...I knew it hadn't been properly tested out yet. Even without _knowin' _the whole story...in my _gut_ I knew that this had to have been an accident. I knew you'd never hurt anyone you cared for..."

She considered these words for several moments, then came to sit beside him. "But I did...I made a very bad choice and hurt her. I could have rolled away, or...taken some other action."

"You did what you thought you had to, chere...it wasn't ideal, but...you did what you had to protect Jessie..." he offered. "How can I ask of you anything _more_ than that? I knew when I _left_ here that I was leaving Jessie in capable hands. Hands she was _completely _safe in. My opinion hasn't changed..."

Rogue turned to look at him, tears trickled down her cheeks.

"Jessie is my _only_ living blood relative," he said softly. "And I put her in _your_ hands...you...the most powerful woman I know...because I _knew _in my heart I couldn't trust _anyone_ more..." he reached out to brush her hair from her cheek, being careful to not let his skin caress hers. "And I would do it _again_. And _again. _If I _died_ tomorrow...you would be the person I would _want_ to be there for Jessie in my place."

She tried clumsily to wipe her tears on her gloved hand. "What about Kitty...and Jean."

"You," he reconfirmed, he put his hands on her shoulders and shook her, "and _only_ you."

Rogue pulled away, "but I can't be a mother," she stood up and walked towards the window again, she let her hands rest upon the sill and stared outside into space.

"That's fine, chere, 'cause honestly...things I've done...right now, I'm not really _fit_ to be a proper father...and Jessie will never be able to _know_ who I am, she's far too young to understand. All I can do is just be there...that's all I can ask of you too."

Rogue turned to look at him; her chest swelled with a deep breath and she exhaled slowly. "Okay..." she said softly. "I'm ready...to go home now."


	6. Chapter 6: Can't Hurt Me

Chapter Six – Can't Hurt Me

Jessie stared down at the page of numbers; it may as well have been in another language to her as none of them made any sense; she felt the Professor watching her from where he sat beside her at the desk.

She tapped her pencil on the workbook and hummed to try and bide some time.

"Come on, Jessie...write your answer down."

With a groan, she glanced towards the Professor, "but I don't _know _what sixty-take-away-thirty-one is! I don't have that many fingers to count!"

The professor smiled, and Jessie got the feeling he was slightly amused by her dramatic behaviour. "You must learn to count in your head."

"Can't I just use your calculator and _say _I counted in my head?" she gestured to the calculator at the other end of the desk.

Professor opened his desk drawer and swept the calculator into it, he shut it, turned the key, and pocketed it. "What calculator?" he asked.

"The one you just put in your drawer!" she admonished.

"I don't have a calculator. You must be imagining things," he smirked.

She pouted.

"In your head," he ordered gently.

Jessie paused, "the answer is...ten."

"No."

"Eleven?"

"No."

"Twelve?" she tried.

"Wrong."

"Thirteen."

"We could be here all day while you try every number you know," the Professor sighed.

"I can't do it..." Jessie whined, "I can't _think_ numbers. It's too hard."

"Math is hard but it's a part of life, and you _must _catch up on this math homework for when you go back to school next week."

"I have to go _back?_" Jessie asked. She'd somehow assumed she might never have to go back, it had never occurred to her somehow that she'd only been allowed to skip simply because of her broken arm.

"Yes. Now concentrate."

"I can't..." she pouted.

The Professor paused, and then he reached over to a jar of paperclips on his desk, "Here..." he said softly. "Use these..."

Jessie raised an eyebrow at him and tilted her head to look at him curiously, "How?" she asked. She watched him spill out the contents onto the desk, a colourful pile of green, orange, yellow and bright pink.

"Count out sixty of them."

"I don't know how to count to sixty."

"Put ten in a line..." he instructed.

Giving in, Jessie began to carefully count out ten paperclips.

"Now put five more lines there..."

Jessie considered this, "so...six lines of ten is sixty?" she asked.

"Yes," he nodded.

Jessie grinned and began to do as she was told. It took quite a few minutes for her to get the six lines out on the desk.

"Now..." said the Professor. "You have to remove thirty one of them..." he explained. "How could you do that?"

She tried to work this out, it didn't make any sense to her how she could. "Thirty is three tens?" she asked hopefully, she was unsure if this was the right answer.

"Yes!" he nodded enthusiastically.

"Okay..." she swept her hand across the desk to brush away three rows of paperclips.

"Thirty-one," he reminded.

She paused and gazed down at the thirty remaining paper clips, she picked one up and put it in the pile of paperclips she didn't need anymore.

"What's left?"

Jessie counted each out, when she'd finished, she counted again, just to be sure. "Twenty...nine."

"There's your answer."

She grinned and picked up her pencil to mark the answer down upon her workbook. She'd just finished drawing in the tale of the nine when the office door opened, and in stepped Mr. LeBeau.

He smiled at Jessie, "I have someone with me," he said gently to her, and he stepped aside to let Rogue step in behind him.

Jessie hopped down from the chair she'd been kneeling on and rushed over to them both, "You're back!" she said gladly, her heart felt like it might swell to see that Rogue had returned after having been away so long. She threw herself at Rogue's legs and wrapped her arms around the woman's thighs.

Rogue stumbled a little, and held her arms up, as if she were confused how to react to this. Jessie felt Mr. LeBeau's hand in her hair and she turned and looked up at him, still holding onto Rogue's legs. His gaze at her was so gentle, so caring, it made her feel strangely complete, just his being there...an odd sensation that felt so...right.

Jessie moved back and stared up at Rogue, she stood on her tiptoes to try and bring herself up to Rogue's level a little more but this didn't quite work and she was still too small.

Mr. LeBeau put his hand down on Rogue's shoulder and pushed down gently, Rogue looked at him confusedly for a moment, then seemed to understand that she had to kneel down to meet Jessie's eyes.

It was strange, Jessie thought, that she felt oddly sorry for Rogue, that Rogue was a teacher here...and yet somehow didn't know how to be around kids. She watched the woman kneeling slowly and carefully.

"Jessie, I'm really sorry about breaking your arm..." Rogue said, her voice shaky.

"It was my fault though..." Jessie reminded, "I didn't mean to mess things up..."

"You didn't mess things up, sugar," Rogue assured.

"But you ran away!" Jessie had to point out.

"I was scared...I didn't want to hurt you again..."

"But you _can't_ hurt me..." Jessie stated, "I told you you can't."

Rogue shook her head, her eyes were glittering with tears, "but I _did._"

"Not _like_ that..." Jessie frowned a little. "I _told_ you that you couldn't hurt me...but you didn't believe me...and I didn't tell you properly and that's why I got hurt..." she tried to explain. She wondered how she _could_ make Rogue understand.

"Jessie...what are you talkin' about?" Mr. LeBeau asked curiously.

"Rogue can't hurt me..." Jessie said; she sighed in frustration.

"Jessie, you're being silly..." said Mr. LeBeau.

Without warning, she quickly grabbed Rogue's face with both bare hands, and held on hard to her cheeks with her tiny fingers.

"Jessie, no!" Mr. LeBeau yelled.

When nothing happened other than Rogue's gasping and breaking away, the little girl did nothing but shrug, and uttered one simple word.

"See."

The End...Or is it? Dun dun dunnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn

Wow, three updates in one day, how'd I manage this one? Thanks to the people for their reviews (they mean the world to me, really, and they're my favourite part of writing is knowing what everyone's guessing about the story so far). I love keeping people in suspense...more to come hopefully soon. Keep eyes peeled :)


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